Look What You're Doing to Me
by SweetJustice
Summary: Saphir believes he's knows everything of the world; so much that he shuns himself from it. A new door of curiosity piques him come a single friend's request, unbeknownst to him that there many things he's yet to discover.


There's this sensation inside–the type to muse one to the edge of their seat. Soft palpitations, fluttering, from a gesture as simple as touch; excruciating! Saphir wasn't keen to acts of romance or sensuality for that matter. Days spoiled to the confines of his laboratory, pacing the pristine tiles as if urging some revelation. Eventually, his anxiousness lures him outside his comfort zone, awestruck by the Doric pillars that span the line of the halls. Captivated by it's beauty and how he and his clansmen–shunned this architectural art as dreadful. Thoughts elude him to contemplate: is Nemesis all that unbearable for them to coexist? Gloved fingers trace the wall with unfamiliarity, surveying the memory of painted portraits–ah, a skill, Demande never thought to explore. He blames the madness that overtook him; a madness in form of woman. An unsavory flavor resides to his tongue at the thought of his elder brother being enticed by the lure of a siren.

"Odious coquette, I'll make her rue the day–" Digits curl into a fist, kneading knuckles against the polish finish. A brother complex may be sugarcoating his infuriated reflex. There was one, in particular, who didn't waltz around the overprotective-possessive nature brewing in him. Any given moment, he posed himself to brandish new-found quirks in the alchemist; who exactly was the scientist here? "Look at you, getting all riled up again? Is big brother ignoring you again?" A masculine voice came as if prompted, antagonizing the episode of loathing the blunet had to dispose. Sapphires direct onto this man, begrudgingly, enveloped in the sea of rubies that pierced him silent. The teasing pucker to his lips or the manner he compels himself tease him with baby talk; suddenly, he felt more ill than prior. Feigning love; ridiculous, though compelling.

It's his mistake for leaving; he wouldn't have encountered the ensnaring embers of feasibility. This possibility stood several inches taller than him: sculpted biceps and flaming tendrils that screamed rebel. The snark on his lips, infuriating. Impulse urging him to abruptly smear it off with the back of his hand as hard as humanly possible, albeit he forgoes–unable to wean from his visage. Mind poised in a paradox of muteness, for once, Saphir rendered dumbfounded–incapable of rationalizing his train of thought–so greatly, he tunes out the entirety of what the latter presented himself to relay.

"You listening to me, Jewels?" The Crimson arches a brow, waving a palm before jaded blues.

Shoved back into reality, the alchemist pays focus to the tone of the opposite. Upon realization, he glowers. "I'd subject you to an audience the day you bother to address me by name." Insisting a huff, he proceeds to force his way past. He didn't have the luxury to entertain pompous thorns in the side. Yet, the recoil of hindsight came upon the tenderness in his shoulder. Stealthily, he massages the area of impact, hoping not to to draw attention. "Hey, I was kidding!" The redhead calls out; ignored! The alchemist was already ranging a critical boiling point. As he believes he secures his freedom, a burly hand acquaints to his shoulder, escorting his attention back to whence he left.

"Normally, I'd tolerate your snark, but don't push it." rebuts the redhead, grimace evident. Saphir's lips pursed, as if to inquire _So what?_, but knew wise than to antagonize the opposite further. Resigning with a sigh, he crosses arms over his chest–vexation adorned his expression courtesy of an eye roll. "What is your reason for pulling away, Rubeus?" He finally asks, index tapping against his sleeve with impatience. What he expects is some excuse to why the Ayakashi sisters, once more, fumbled a simple operation followed by an inexcusable request for a stronger droid. Instead, he was thrown a subject off the tangent of his expertise.

"Teach me about love."

"..." Blue eyes narrowed. Willpower ebbing from a single phrase; the nerve of this guy. Just a couple inches closer and certainly would have provided his answer en route of a knee to the groin. "Excuse you?" Incredulous head shake and an implied back step marks his urge for retreat. A trick; this has to be some practical joke he didn't ask for, all to boast the realization betwixt the two.

Harboring no experience contrast to the womanizing bachelor towering him, he scowls, fuming from accusation. His venture for refuge drawn back by the hand which remained occupied to his shoulder. Pushed gently against the wall he earlier disdains, he finds himself delving once more into pools of wine. It wasn't the matter of virginity that paralyzed him so. Lips tremble, searchingly digging through his mind–his heart to muster some type of response. Pride torn asunder under the realization, "I don't know," he averts his gaze, sheepishly distancing himself from the criticism of the man who contests him. "Why don't you ask, Nii-san or Esmeraude? I don't have time to play your games." Hell, he did quite the number on all the broken hearts in his wake. Did he not know?

"How about you compose yourself like an adult for once in your meager life than some hormone driven playboy?" His tongue slipped; it felt damn good–releasing that frustration. One thing he loathes more than any: having his intelligence challenged. He had to step away to moderate his temper. What ever region of his brain told him escaping this man was gravely mislead. A vibrant flash of vermilion manifest before him, obstructing his path: teleportation, right; they knew how to do that.

"Saphir–"

"Didn't I tell you to–"

"I'm serious."

Serious. His heart felt achingly close to jumping out of his chest. Lightheaded, head-spinning. What to make of all this? Surely, he were over thinking: such came with the territory of his vocation. That, or the thrill of having someone powerful pin him down and enforce authority... no. Never that. Still, he isn't displaying any feats of rebellion at the moment.

How is he to process this all? The fearsome truth delving beyond those piercing gems...a sense of longing for who knows how long. Whomever for, Saphir figured, they must be special to make a free spirit like Rubeus consider another person's feelings. Koan is a possible candidate, though it were no secret how terribly he treats her. Calaveras on the other hand? It were possible. For the sake of charity–and to get the older male off his back, he complies. "I am not lying when I say I don't know. But, I'll try..."

Here marks the biggest mistake of his life.

"... and help you."


End file.
